I Didn't Live Until Today
by FanFicgirl1234
Summary: Takes place in the 2012 version of Les Mis. Aimee Delacroix hasn't had an easy life. All she has known was pain and disappointment. She and her half-brother have been on their own for as long as she could remember. Aimee never knew what real love or hope meant until that one day. Enjolras/OC. R&R.


My name is Aimee Delacroix. I was the middle child and only daughter of Antoine Delacroix and Carlita Castellanos. Mama was from Guadalajara, Mexico, but she immigrated to Europe when she was seventeen years old and met papa in La Rochelle, France at the school he attended where she worked as a maid, falling in love with him. He reciprocated her feelings and married her, causing him to be disinherited and disowned, but he didn't care. They moved into a small and comfortable cottage outside the city. Two years later into their marriage, my older brother, Alexandre, was born. Then seven years later, I was born, but mama died during childbirth.

For the next years of my life, I blamed myself for mama's death. Papa and Alexandre blamed me, too. Though they never said they did, I knew they did, being resentful for my living and her dying in the process of me being brought into this world. Even I couldn't blame them for their resentment.

Within a year after mama's death, papa met a woman named Yvonne and they married. She seemed like a nice woman at the time, but not long after their wedding ceremony, she showed her true colours. She was selfish, greedy, and abusive. She considered me ill–favored while Alexndre was her favorite, though for more reasons than she says. Alexandre showed his hate for me because of those times he chose not to do anything about Yvonne. She'd make me do everything while papa was out doing work. She'd call me names, hit me, and poisoned my family against me.

I tried to tell papa about how she was to me, pouring out my fears that she'd make me lose him. Papa told me it was all in my head and reassured me she loved me as a mother would her child, though in her case, her stepchild. I remained with my fears. The only good that came out from the marriage was my half brother, Fabien. Though he was Yvonne's biological child, she treated him coldly, equally cruel as she was to me. One day when papa and I were out on a walk in town, a group of men ambushed us. I was minorly injured, but papa was killed. Even if I was physically all right, I was emotionally distraught. That didn't make things any easier. If possible, it became worse.

Alexandre started ignoring me and even slapped me once when I begged him not to let Yvonne have any control on him. He told me to stay out of his life and that was it. The next morning, he was gone, leaving me with dear Fabien and the witch Yvonne. I haven't seen him since, not that I want to.

Yvonne, greedy as always, blew the money papa left her, and left us poor. In desperation, Yvonne sold me and Fabien to a pimp in Montreuil, returning back to La Rochelle with the made up lie that we were jumped and killed.

I told the pimp to do what he wanted with me, but to leave Fabien alone and give him somewhere to live. It was no better than living with Yvonne, but it was more better than the streets. I was only fourteen when I was forced into a sickening world I tried to avoid. I was the pimp's favorite, him calling me "his little angel". Whenever I did something out of line, he'd beat me and tell me I had to "learn my place". Whenever I refused a customer or rejected their advances, he'd force me into sexual activities and beat me some more, calling me horrible names and even went as far as decreasing my amount of food.

Two years later, Fabien decided he had enough. He had witnessed the pimp beating and raping me for the last time, and he attacked him. When Fabien was attacked severely as a result, it made me furious. I took a large stone and crushed his skull, instantly killing him. Realizing what I done, I was horrified. I didn't care how violent he was, I was a murderer. I took Fabien and we fled.

We fled to Paris. It took a few weeks to find work. Monsieur Derosiers, the owner of the local bakery, found us in a dark alley, starved, cold, and unloved. He kindly took us in. His wife, Madame Desrosiers was cold and strict. She wasn't like Yvonne, but she didn't seem to like us too much. Things were bad for them and their shop enough that taking two starving children wouldn't make it any easier.

No matter how much I would have preferred being in a loving and kind family where there was nothing wrong, I don't think I want the past changed. The pain wouldn't have lead me where I am today. I wouldn't have made such a misunderstood yet amazing best friend, nor would I have met _him_.


End file.
